


there'll be a riot ('cause i know you)

by inthearmsoftheocean



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Off-screen death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthearmsoftheocean/pseuds/inthearmsoftheocean
Summary: “Who’s the real idiot?” Mick added fondly. “The guy in the tiara or the guy in love with the guy in the tiara?”





	there'll be a riot ('cause i know you)

Broken glass crunched beneath Len's boots as he made his exit from the Central City Tiffany's, grinning like a fool. He yanked open the door on the passenger’s side of the car stalling outside and barely managed to close it before Mick was peeling out of the parking lot, the screech of tires on asphalt inaudible over the wail of the alarm and the sirens of the police still far off in the distance.  


“Mick! You should have seen it, I felt like a kid in a candy store.”  


He dropped his bag of stolen goodies into his lap and looked back to make sure they weren't being followed, knowing full well that they had a few minutes to spare based on the average response time. They had spent weeks planning the job, but Mick supposed there was no such thing as being overly cautious after a grand theft.  


“I would have seen it if you hadn’t demoted me to getaway driver,” Mick reminded him, looking back to the road. A crash would certainly put a damper on Len’s spirit — or maybe not, he thought with another peek. Smiling from ear to ear with fistfuls of jewels in both hands, perhaps not even a fiery crash could bring him down from his post-burglary high.  


“You’re in an awful good mood,” he observed coolly.  


Len didn’t respond, pressing his lips to a vulgarly large yellow diamond dangling from a silver chain before he dropped it all back into the bag, freeing his hands to pull Mick into a sudden, desperate kiss. Mick jerked the steering wheel in surprise and slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid driving into the curb.  


Len seemed blissfully unaware of how close he had been to diving through the windshield, and for a moment, Mick almost indulged him. It was only the thought of being dragged to jail and robbed of their brand new spoils that caused him to pull away rather than tossing him into the backseat for a celebration.  


“What’s gotten into you, Len?” Mick gave him a look and checked the rear view mirror to make sure no one had seen their near-accident. He pulled back onto the road and sped off once more in the direction of their most recent apartment. “You gotta keep it in your pants until we get back if you want to live long enough to enjoy all your new presents. And what’s that you’re always telling me about seat belts, Princess Di?”  


“Princess, huh?” Len asked, mirroring Mick’s expression as he plucked a tiara from the sack. It sparkled beneath the orange streetlights with diamonds and emeralds as he twirled it around his finger. “You know, that could grow on me. Watch out or I won’t let you call me anything else.”  


“Your head’s getting too big,” Mick muttered. He softened, however, as he watched his partner put on the crown out of the corner of his eye.  


“Who’s the real idiot?” He added fondly. “The guy in the tiara or the guy in love with the guy in the tiara?”  


Len pulled down the sun visor and admired himself in the mirror. “You’d be an idiot not to love me when I’m wearing a hundred thousand dollars worth of rocks.”  


“You could toss all that stuff out the window right now and it wouldn’t change a damn thing.”  


Len looked away from his reflection. Mick braced himself for the inevitable sarcastic remark, calling him a sap or worse, but somehow it never came.  


“You never did have much of an eye for sparkly things,” he said instead, wrapping a gloved hand around Mick’s head and pulling him in to kiss his temple. "But you're a hell of a lookout."  


-

  


“Home sweet home!” Mick announced as he kicked open the door to their hideout. It was dark inside the one bedroom apartment aside from the single light bulb swinging from the ceiling, rocking back and forth from the breeze coming in through the open window. It was cheap, dirty and ugly, but the landlord took cash and didn't ask questions and Mick had slept in far worse places with less pleasant company. He beelined for the fridge to grab a beer while Len stripped his jacket off and draped it over a chair, sitting cross-legged on the lumpy beige sofa and dumping out his treasures on the coffee table like a child admiring his haul of Halloween candy.  


“Once you do the honors of burning the serial numbers off, they’ll be completely untraceable,” Len said, picking up a gold bangle and peering at it closely. “Do you know how much some of this is going to go for?”  


“Better use some of that money to get a new couch,” Mick said, kicking one of the wooden feet as he passed. It wobbled violently, almost knocking Len over.  


“We’re filthy rich and the only thing you can think of is what you’re gonna sit on?” Len leaned against the arm, which sagged tiredly beneath his weight, and invited his partner to sit beside him with one leg hitched over the back of the couch and the other on the floor.  


“You can’t think about how you’re gonna spend all your money if you’re not comfortable,” Mick said when he settled down on the other end. Len appeared to have another idea, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in until he was resting between his spread legs. Mick had to reach out and steady himself with his hands on either side of Len’s head, lowering himself to curl up against his chest.  


“Tell me about them,” Mick said with a nod to the pile of gems. “I know it always gets you in the mood.”  


Len gave his shoulder a playful shove and reached out for a long string of pearls, placing them around Mick’s neck. “Worth more than this apartment and everything in it, including the couch.”  


Mick rolled them between his finger and thumb with his eyebrows raised, taking a swig of beer. “Even the couch?” He repeated in mock astonishment.  


“Shut up, Mick.”  


Mick snickered and reached out for a watch next, putting it to his ear to make sure it still ticked after Len broke a display case around it and tossed it in a bag. He clasped it around Len’s wrist, smiling when he noticed the black leather matched almost everything else in his wardrobe.  


“You should keep that one, it suits you,” he said. “What’s the point of raiding a jewelry store if you can’t keep a few little trinkets for yourself?”  


Len hummed in consideration, admiring it. “And what about you? Did you see anything in there you wanted to keep?”  


“You know I’m not a jewelry person,” Mick said. “I don’t go for that fancy stuff. Not that I don’t look good in pearls if it’s the right occasion.”  


Len shrugged with one shoulder, turning toward the pile and grazing his fingers over it. He sifted through rubies and gold and everything in between until he found what he was after, a silver band with a single diamond embedded in it. He picked it up and twirled it to watch the light reflect off of it. With his free hand he lifted Mick’s, slipping it onto his finger and putting it back down on his chest.  


“I picked this one out for you,” he said quietly, remarkably sincere.  


Mick leaned down to get a better look at it.  


“This one?” He asked. “How much?”  


“Eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-five, not including tax.”  


“That’s chump change. Hell, the necklace has to be worth thirty thousand at least,” Mick replied, squinting to look even closer as if it might reveal what was so special about that ring in particular. “I’m surprised you could even find one that would fit me in there.”  


“Mick.”  


The gentle voice caught his attention more than a shout would have, and without needing to say anything more, Mick understood.  


The ring didn’t just magically fit his larger-than-average finger, it was custom ordered. Len, while able to eyeball just about anything valuable and get a rough estimate of what it might be worth, was able to give him an exact figure before tax.  


Left hand, ring finger.  


Len’s voice was barely a whisper.  


“Marry me.”  


Mick sat up as straight as a rod, his expression unreadable.  


“You picked it out,” he said flatly. “You went in, told ‘em my size, ordered it and then robbed the place.”  


“Even the CCPD might have been able to figure it out if I just took the ring,” Len replied. “The rest was a cover-up. Plus it’ll pay for the honeymoon.”  


“Len, we can’t…” Mick trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “We’re wanted felons. We can’t go down to the courthouse and ask them to ignore our warrants just this once because it's our wedding day.”  


“Then we’ll get married somewhere else,” Len answered smoothly, pulling himself up again. “We’ll bring Lisa and we’ll take a little vacation where nobody knows who we are, come back as husband and husband.”  


Mick looked over his shoulder with the same deep-set frown, rising from the couch without a warning.  


“Bastard.”  


Len drew back in surprise, watching Mick stomp off toward their bedroom. A rejection he would have understood, maybe even expected, but anger?  


_Bastard?_  


His blood started to boil as he sat in the deafening silence, the humiliation of rejection weighing down on him and threatening to suffocate him. With a sudden rage, he scooped up a handful of jewels and walked toward the window, ready to cast them down onto the street below.  


“Len?”  


With his arm cocked and ready to throw, he refused to look at Mick. “What do you want?”  


He didn’t answer, instead appearing behind him and winding an arm around his waist, causing every muscle in Len’s body to tense.  


“Bastard,” Mick repeated, carefully prying one of Len’s fingers away from the gems he was holding tightly in his fist. “I’ve been planning this for a long time and you beat me to the punch like you always do. If I’d known, I never would have been your getaway.”  


Len slowly lowered his hand, dropping his loot as if it were worthless plastic.  


“Our first job,” he murmured.  


“Thought about stealing something more valuable, but then I figured being a little sentimental might not hurt for a change,” Mick explained. “I can get you something else if you don’t - ”  


He was cut off by Len turning around and crushing their mouths together.  


“Don’t you dare,” Len whispered against his lips. “They can keep the Hope Diamond, this is mine.”  


-

  


“Len?”  


“Yeah?”  


Mick tipped his sunglasses further down his nose to see over them properly and frowned. They were both laying on their stomachs, stretched out across two lounge chairs in the sand and soaking up some much-needed sun. While Mick was content with pretending to take a nap while he watched his husband relax, Len, it seemed, had actually dozed off.  


“You should put some more sunscreen on or your pale ass is gonna burn.”  


Len scoffed, shifting to make himself more comfortable and smiling against his arms propping up his head.  


“All right, turn into a human lobster for the rest of our honeymoon, but don’t blame me when we can’t - ”  


“No, no, not in front of me,” Lisa interrupted, standing from her own chair on Len's other side. “I’ve gone this long without knowing what you two do and I can go a little longer. If you need me, I’ll be getting ice cream and checking out the lifeguards.”  


She pouted as she crouched down next to her brother’s chair. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t check out lifeguards anymore. At least not while Mick’s looking.”  


When Mick growled, she gave Len a peck on the cheek.  


“Put your sunscreen on, Lenny.”  


“ _Mick_ ,” he sang in reply as Lisa walked away.  


“You’re lucky I want you fully mobile for the rest of this trip instead of whining about your sunburn,” Mick muttered, moving to sit on the edge of Len’s chair. He squirted some lotion into his palms and started kneading it into Len’s back.  


“There are a few reasons I’m lucky, Mick, and that’s toward the bottom of the list.”  


“Having a sister who’s willing to hold a priest at gunpoint for an entire wedding ceremony has to be up there.”  


“She would have held up the Prime Minister and forced him to change the law if I let her.”  


“Maybe you should have,” Mick thought aloud. “But I like us being the first two to ever do something. First men ever married on this lovely island, first man ever married in a tiara and a skirt, makes me feel special.”  


Len made a soft, content sound, lifting his head to admire his ring for the hundredth time that afternoon.  


“We should come back here for our anniversary.”  


“You really like it that much?” Mick questioned.  


“What can I say? You’ve got great taste. Must be why you married me.”  


Mick couldn’t keep the smile off his face, rolling Len over to kiss him.  


“I’ll bring you back every year if you want,” he vowed, cupping Len’s face in his hand and running his thumb along his cheekbone. “If we’re not in prison or dead, we’ll be right here.”  


Len looked at him through his lashes, utterly adoring and vulnerable like Mick had never seen him.  


“I love you, Mick.”  


The words warmed him like a bright summer day.  


-

  


“Mick?”  


His head snapped up as he was pulled from his memory against his will.  


“You want to do the honors? Plot a course?” He couldn’t see it from his seat behind the captain’s chair, but the pride in Sara’s voice was clear. “You earned it.”  


The two rings on a chain weighed heavily around his neck, and he knew the answer without having to think about it for even a moment.  


He’d made a promise, after all.  


“Gideon, set a course for Aruba.”

**Author's Note:**

> What started as a joking conversation about Len showing up in Aruba in 3x01 turned into this diabetes-inducing mess that I wrote overnight.
> 
> Thanks to Luke (@chaotictrans) for the backbone that I had to flesh out.


End file.
